


Takeoff

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biggs Darklighter Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-05 18:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Bacta hangovers are hell.





	Takeoff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfeatenmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfeatenmoon/gifts).

There's nothing like floating in a bacta tank to make you wish you were anywhere else. Biggs blinks himself awake with the breathing mask stuck to him, his eyes suddenly full of the sticky mess and his body awash in a sensory nightmare of wet and warm and none of it in the good way. He panics, the way he always hoped he wouldn't when it was his turn in the tank. He's pulled up into the air by a medical droid who stares at him with perfect robotic detachment through the blurry haze.

"I see you are recovering." It helps him remove the mask as he wipes the mess from his eyes.

Finally, he can see, and the first thing he sees is the best thing he's ever seen in his whole damn life.

Luke says, "You look like hell, Biggs," and he's laughing in that same old Luke way as he comes over to him with a towel.

"Thanks," Biggs says, reaching for the towel right before he's wrapped in a bona fide Luke Skywalker hug. Given his medical woes and relative frailty, and Biggs will say those are his reasons to anyone who asks, he lets himself melt into Luke's arms with a pleased sigh.

"I thought you were a goner," Luke tells him into his wet hair.

"Me? Never. I had to come back. Someone's got to keep an eye on you."

"The patient needs rest," says the droid. Luke doesn't let go but he does help Biggs to the recovery bed. Luke's clean, not covered in the stale sweat of a pilot who's spent the last twenty hours in the cockpit. Time has passed. A weird, sad sorrow moves through Biggs, part effect of the remaining anesthesia in his system, and part his growing awareness of how much he must have missed.

"We won, right?" They wouldn't be here talking if they'd lost. They'd be stardust.

"Yep," Luke says, and gives him one of his best smiles. "No more Death Star, no more Empire. In fact we're on our way to Coruscant to take over leadership of the Republic. You're going to be a Senator."

"You are so full of bantha poodoo," Bigg replies with a laugh that ends in a cough. Breathing masks dry out your lungs and throat worse than a walk through a sandstorm. Better than dying, he'll aver, but not a lot better. He came out here to escape the crackling, dry, slow death of a Tatooine farmer.

"Okay, but we did get the Death Star. That's something."

Biggs lets himself rest in the biobed. To his surprise and delight, Luke grabs his hand and threads their fingers together. On his last night on Tatooine, when he'd come back to say goodbye, they'd gone out together into the deep, inviting shadows outside Tosche Station. Luke had been his friend since they were kids. They'd gotten very friendly that night, giving in to the half-teasing, half-one-upsmanship, and more than half-hoping they'd both been engaging in for years. Slippery hands and warm mouths, and a sticky mess had all been far more inviting than a bacta bath ever could be. Biggs thought that was the end of things, going out on a high note with his favorite person on the miserable dustball they called home.

Luke squeezes his hand, and his face is full of promise.

"Tell me all about it," Biggs says, and Luke settles in beside him to tell him everything he missed. Biggs has a good feeling he hasn't missed the important stuff, not really. The good part is all ahead of them now, waiting for him to recover enough to go back to their bunks.

Biggs decides he's going to heal fast.


End file.
